Sam Knows
by ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild
Summary: A fic in which Nell is pretty sure Sam knows what her and G do outside of OPS, and Callen really doesn't care. Nallen fluff and humor.
He tries to ignore it, when Sam stares at him.

It's Sam's classic I-know-something-is-going-on-with-you stare, and it makes Callen fidget uncomfortably. He may have been busy with paperwork but he knows he'll be answering to Sam for his behavior around Nell, earlier. It wasn't unusual for Callen to give her his undivided attention, but it was very rare to see him visibly adjust his posture to do so. Crossed arms, even hands shoved in pockets, was all typical of Callen, even when he was paying attention, but never turning in to someone. Never shifting his shoulders and torso towards someone, as if they were the only important one in the room, as he had earlier with Nell.

But, she's not just Nell, the intelligence analyst, anymore.

She's not just someone, who spouts off pertinent information, cuts him off mid-sentence, and dares to defy Henrietta Lange.

She's _Nell._

The almost-girlfriend.

He hadn't actually taken her on a date, yet, but he had every intention of doing so. It taken them about five years, but they had finally transitioned from crisp friendship to a closeness that both were content with. It was warm and satisfying, like Hetty's good scotch. But, the line had blurred somewhere between a marathon night of paperwork and realizing he knew her well enough to have her favorite Chinese take-out waiting for her at her door on nights, she didn't get home in time to cook herself dinner. They had blurred, jumped over, and almost all but erased that damn metaphorical line drawn between them, keeping them from what they really wanted, and had settled into something of a relationship.

To be honest, he was liking the simple domesticity. She had made a point of buying him bed linens; soft bed sheets, a nice quilt, and a backup set of sheets, should injuries from a case leave one indisposed until he could do laundry. On slow days, usually lazy Sundays, when she was afforded time, she'd make breakfast.

It made him feel like someone cared for him, like he wasn't some foster kid tossed around the system, and he wondered if, when he explained how he felt to Sam, if his partner would understand.

"G?"

"What?"

Sam's eyebrows furrowed, looking at the bold print at the top of the page. Expense report. As far as he knew, Hetty hadn't requested an expense report - there hadn't been any expenses on his and Callen's end of things, that he could recall. Unless that cheap taco stand lunch was on an Ops credit card. He leans over and taps his partner's desk. "Why are you filling out an expense report?"

"The toner." Nell's soft voice drifts into the bullpen.

She's standing in the archway, sweater wrapped around her body, and her bag slung across her like a third limb. She looks exhausted, eyes a little darker than they should be, and her posture slumped and vulnerable. Sam's never seen the woman look so much like a little girl, who needed to be tucked away from the world. Nell always looked well rested and refreshed when she made her way into Ops each morning. Even, after an all nighter, she still found time to freshen up and make it appear as if she wasn't running on fumes. It's enough to get Sam out of his seat and standing in front of her before she can blink.

"You alright, Nell?"

"Yeah," Nell nods, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. "I'm fine, Sam."

Sam narrows his eyes, not quite buying it, but she's not going to tell the truth. He brushes his thumb along her cheekbone and holds her chin. "Get some rest, baby girl."

"I will, Sam."

"Good." Sam nods, turning back to his partner. "See that she does."

"What?" Callen can't help but roll his eyes a little - although, his nerves are starting to twitch in suspicion that Sam might know something. "Nell is a responsible adult. More so than I am. She doesn't need me to babysit her."

"I didn't say she did." Sam grins cheekily. Aw hell, it started out as a way to make them nervous, give 'em a good shake up, but now it's turning into a fun game. "I said," his eyes move back and forth between them, barely concealing his laughter at the nervous fear mirrored on their faces. "See that she gets some rest. Hardly the same as babysitting."

"Right."

Sam raps his knuckles on G's desk, and turns to leave, ruffling Nell's red hair as he passes by. While not in a terrible rush to get home, Michelle had requested he pick up Chinese on his way home that evening, as she had to attend a parent-teacher conference for Kamran, and wouldn't be able to prepare dinner before leaving. He's pretty sure it's just her excuse to eat sesame chicken and _his_ vegetables, but he's happy to oblige his wife, in his time off, and if she wants to eat his food, he wouldn't object.

"C'mon Nell." G sighs, stuffing the reports in a folder to drop on Hetty's desk. "You heard the man. You need rest and and I need to never see another expense report as long as I live."

"Who exactly do you think you work for?"

Good point.

Working at NCIS sometimes felt like being at school, what with all of the reports he was required to fill out, and the way Hetty acted toward them. Although, no warm and fuzzies for Hetty. Not lately.

"Touche." Callen hangs his head.

Nell just laughs and heads for the exit while Callen drops his share of the completed paperwork on Hetty's desk and all but sprints to catch up with her. She's fast for someone who doesn't stand an inch over five feet and she doesn't think to slow down until he slips his arm around her.

"So, I'm thinking steak for dinner..."

xxx

"You know, he knows, right?" it's something she voices when they're in bed, boneless and satisfied. She's leaning on her elbow, while her other hand traces a random pattern on his chest.

"Who?" Callen breathes, sinking further into the mattress.

"Sam."

"What?" he looks at her as if she's grown a second head. "Nell, there's no way he knows."

"You're blind, Callen." Nell shakes her head, reaching across his body for the shirt barely hanging off of the edge of the mattress. She slips from beneath the sweaty sheets and tugs it over her head. "Sam knows you, he knows me. He's not stupid. He figured it out."

"You think?" he reluctantly rolls out of bed and searches for his boxers.

Nell's face pinches in discomfort at the thought, even as she tosses Callen the underwear he's trying to be subtle about searching for. "Yeah, Callen. I'm pretty sure he's figured out we're having sex."

"What?!"

"Oh, come on, G!" Nell rolls her eyes - honestly, did he not think Sam knew the possibilities of a male and a female being alone in a room, together? "Men are worse than women about this kind of thing. It's like some sort of trophy thing, to you cavemen."

"I resent that!" any thoughts he had of seducing her back to bed vanish. "Nell, you can't be serious!"

"Sex is a major accomplishment to men." she shrugs it off like it's nothing. "Sam probably figured it out, the first time we did it."

"Okay, first of all." he grabs her arm, pulling her around to face him. "We'll talk about your view of sex, later. Second, if Sam knows, it's not a big deal. He won't tell anyone. Hetty already knows, so what's the big deal?"

"What if he doesn't approve, G?" Nell's bottom lip disappears between her teeth. "He's your best friend - your family. What if he doesn't approve?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Callen's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"The age difference."

Callen can't help but laugh, slipping his arms around her small waist. "Trust me, sweetheart, age is just a number to Sam Hanna."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." he nods, leaning down to kiss her head. "Now, about that whole sex thing..."

"Ugh."

xxx

Paperwork is a bitch.

But, it keeps their cases organized - cold, open, and closed - and while Sam hates filling out report after report, he too is a perfectionist so he understands the need for it. He just wishes Hetty didn't require so many damn reports. Then, maybe G of all people wouldn't be packing up to leave before he did.

"'Night Sam!" Callen picks up his bag, and heads for the exit. Only, he doesn't turn for the door, instead he heads for the staircase and leans against the railing. "Nell, we're going to be late for dinner."

Sam's eyebrows raise.

He shifts his gaze over to where his partner and best friend is standing. He can hear the faint sound of Nell grumbling as she leaves OPS, the messenger bag Sam bought her for Christmas slung across her body. Callen pushes off of the railing and turns toward her as she jumps off of the bottom step and makes her way to him.

"I'm pretty sure people are talking about us, now." Nell slips under his arm and turns to face him, walking backwards. It reminds him of something Kensi did on a case a few years ago.

"Let 'em talk."

Sam bites back a scoff, because G. Callen has never been comfortable with office gossip, especially when it concerns him. He watches them walk toward the double doors, leaving for the day. They're holding onto one another comfortably - hell, Nell is practically hanging off of Callen and he's holding her there, more than happy with her in his arms. He listens to them banter and bicker.

"Deeks! You owe me twenty bucks, I expect it by morning."


End file.
